Feast or Famine

After three days in what I called nunnery solitude, I've had a hectice, people-filled day today--and enjoyed it. Had a 9:30 meeting with the incoming director of the press to review the acquisitions list--and officially turn it over to him. Before that I ran a bunch of Jacob's stuff by Jordan's office, so they can take it with them on a weekend getaway tomorrow, and bought animal food. (I truly believe the man who said the first step towards wealth is not to buy anything you have to feed!)
Got home just in time to go to lunch with friends at the Cat City Grill--having weighed this morning I swore I would have salad or something non-fattening. So I ordered a lobster po-boy--but I didn't eat the bread and only a few waffle fries. There wasn't much lobster, but it as battered and fried. Will I never learn?
Came home to 50 emails that had accumulated while I was gone all morning, so dealt with them, took a nap (so comfy I didn't want to get up). About 5:15 a friend of the press came by to pick up a manuscript he had promised to read, and we had wine on the porch and a good visit. Then I rushed to eat some supper, clean up the porch--well, dust the chairs--and get ready for tonight's "Writing Your Life" class, which is the real subject of this blog.
Two weeks ago I challenged the women to write five pages about any aspect of their lives they wanted, and tonight we talked about how they felt about the experience, what obstacles they encountered, and finally, what they wrote. Three of the women shared their writing-they had brought copies for each member of the class--and we discussed them. Then I asked them to take ten minutes to write what they remembered about something they didn't think they remembered. I do these exercises along with them,and the result was pretty interesting. A couple of women shared theirs--and I hinted at mine, saying it started out in one place and ended up somewhere totally different. What all of us as a group are finding is that tortuous twisted path, where one memory leads to another. We all agree, however, that memoir needs humor--and angst. A combination of both.
Keeping the ball rolling and the conversation going for an hour and a half is exhausting--at least that's what I decided tonight, because I'm really tired. Elizabeth opens each session with a meditation and closes each with a circle--I think the class members really appreciate this. But still it's up to me to make salient comments, encourage discussion, and so on. A lot of stress and brain work, but fun. I found the class satisfying, and several commented on how much they had learned. When Elizabeth has the closing circle, she asks each of us to say one word about how we're feeling. Mine was "intrigued"--others were "interested," "stimulated," "motivated," and the like. I think it was a success.
And thanks to Lisa Wilson who brought some delicious goodies--rolls of cream cheese with pesto or tapenade or pepper jelly, tiny brownies topped with strawberry cream cheese (now there's a great idea!), and wine, of course.

Ho-hum weather, a new restaurant and an experimental dinner

Today, the steady slow drizzle that so benefits our gardens was getting old. It was chilly and damp, though not really cold. I suspect we're in for a long spring of this, and I try to be grateful. But sometimes I long for sun. And about 5:00 tonight I got my wish--the sun was shiny bright, even though everything was still soggy and wet and the schoolyard across the street was filled with puddles.
Still the day was brightened by lunch with my friend Carol. We tried out a new restaurant, Cat City Grill (so named because of Fort Worth's old reputation as Panther City--too long a story to repeat here), and enjoyed it. I passed on the hamburger, though she said hers was really good, and had a spinach salad with gorgonzola, dried cranberries, and bacon. There was much more spinach than the latter goodies and the dressing was a tad sweet, but I still ate every bite. They have wonderful appetizers, like fried lobster bites--what a temptation!
Carol and I share a lot of professional interests, especially the history of Fort Worth, and she is reading a manuscript for me now. But we're also longtime friends, and she said a most interesting (and flattering) thing to me. When I was telling her about my renewed difficulty with open spaces, she said, "For me, it just makes you human." She said that she admired what I'd done and accomplished in my life but was glad to know I had a very human weakness. I laughed, demurred, but said, "Can I lean on you?" and she gave me a big hug and said, "Anytime." Aren't friends great?
Tonight I had an experimental dinner. I've really been trying to eat up the food in my freezer, and I came across a small portion of ground veal, left from I know not what. I sauteed it with some garlic, breaking up the pieces as I went, and then threw in sliced mushrooms, asparagus pieces, and sugar snap peas. When it was all almost crisp-done I seasoned it with salt, pepper, a bit of thyme, lemon, and a splash of white wine. Then I ate it out of the small skillet I'd cooked it in (oh, what would my mother say!). But it was so good. I may have to buy more veal! And I have very few dishes to wash.